


Verge

by CasuallyScreaming



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: 5 things plus one, Confessions, Geraskier, M/M, Multichapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasuallyScreaming/pseuds/CasuallyScreaming
Summary: Jaskier was starting to notice things. Just little things, but things that mattered nonetheless.The time Geralt bought spices he deemed unnecessary just because he knew Jaskier liked them. The way Geralt would allow Jaskier, and only Jaskier, at his throat and back to help bathe and patch him up. The look in Geralt's eyes when Jaskier would laugh particularly hard at a typical "Geralt Joke."A situation like this, with so many emotions riding on it, had to be left to Geralt. He had to be the one to decide when it would happen and where and how. Geralt had to be in full control of the situation, otherwise, he would feel uncomfortable, regardless of whether or not he actually loved Jaskier.Shit.Jaskier couldn’t confess to Geralt. He had to wait for the witcher to make the first move.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 30
Kudos: 173





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with a new fic, and this time it's multichaptered! I hope you enjoy!!

Jaskier had a problem. 

Thankfully, he had plenty of time to think about it between towns. Geralt was still (selfishly) riding Roach, leaving Jaskier's poor feet to suffer. He looked straight ahead. Jaskier knew that although golden eyes stayed trained forward, Geralt was certainly listening carefully for any sudden, unexpected movement along their path. 

Jaskier didn't care about what rabbits may hop around or what bug may fly too close for Geralt's liking. He was focused solely on one thought, one idea, one issue that couldn't be solved, the problem that would surely set him in stone as the world's most tragic bard.

He was in love with his best friend. 

It started in Posada, as most things in Jaskier's life had. It was only a little crush as he noticed the insanely, unfairly muscular man in the corner of the room. And then it was friendship — the crush was still there, but more of a background noise — as Jaskier tried his best to worm his way into Geralt's circle of trust. 

But now, Jaskier is pretty sure it's love in its purest and most passionate form. He could write ballads about it. Their love story was one for the ages, a humble bard following a strong witcher, stealing his heart along the way. The physical protection the witcher provides and the emotional vulnerability of the bard. The opposites attract cliche. He was sure that even other bards would write a ballad or two about the famous relationship that would surely come of this friendship. How the songbird tamed the wolf. Pure poetry, ready for the writing.

There was just one problem. 

Geralt seemed to have other plans. Plans named Yennefer. Even though the sorceress had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with Geralt, at least romantically, Jaskier still watched as witcher pined for witch, much like Jaskier himself was doing. They would occasionally visit the same towns she was in, and Geralt would claim it an accident, but Jaskier knew. He wasn’t stupid. Neither was Yennefer, for that matter; it didn’t take long for them to arrive in a town before she was up and gone without a word to Geralt. Jaskier could see the disappointment every time, poorly masked by a facade of indifference. 

Jaskier’s ballad would have to be one of heartbreak, and although it was something he had resigned himself to long ago, it still hurt when he thought about it. He often wondered how long he would allow himself to pine. He knew that as a viscount, and as a famous bard, he was definitely holding himself back from at least two different paths of luxury and leisure by following the witcher on his Path. But in a way, it had started to feel like  _ their _ Path. 

And Jaskier wasn’t sure he wanted a life of luxury and leisure without Geralt indulging in it by his side.

There was only so much one could take, however. He knew it was a ticking clock. Eventually, all of Jaskier’s pining and bottled up emotions would come to a head. Geralt would find out, one way or another. And then what? Jaskier already knew that Geralt didn’t reciprocate, but would he still allow the pitiful, lovesick bard to follow along in his adventures?

He was pulled out of his reverie as a feeling of being watched crept up on him and became nearly unbearable. His head shot up towards Geralt, who was raising an eyebrow at him.

"You're quiet today, bard," he said as he looked back at the road ahead.

"It's my gift to you. A few hours of silence for the quick and easy price of allowing me upon your majestic steed," Jaskier tried. He winked before he realized the pointlessness of the act.

"No.”

Jaskier sighed and whipped his lute out. "Unfortunately, that means I must work on my newest material in order to distract my feet from the harrowing journey you're putting them through." 

Geralt looked at him once more, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Jaskier strummed the lute once and winked again.

Suddenly, Roach sped up and Jaskier was left to trail behind, as was standard practice when the instrument appeared in his hands. 

Jaskier blinked in surprise. Although the rude departure was normal, the way the corner of Geralt's mouth had ticked up beforehand was not.  _ Maybe,  _ Jaskier thought suddenly, _ it could be a ballad after all _ . 

Jaskier was starting to notice things. Just little things, but things that mattered nonetheless.

The time Geralt bought spices he deemed unnecessary just because he knew Jaskier liked them. The way Geralt would allow Jaskier, and only Jaskier, at his throat and back to help bathe and patch him up. The look in Geralt's eyes when Jaskier would laugh particularly hard at a typical "Geralt Joke." 

Jaskier had noticed and remembered these moments, tucking them away in a box in his heart as small gestures of friendship.

But what if it wasn’t meant to be friendship? What if Geralt was simply so bad at handling his emotions that his best idea of how to court someone was to be their friend? What if Geralt was trying to flirt?

It had the potential to be a monumental discovery. His witcher,  _ the  _ White Wolf of Rivia, could have actually been in love with him too. His chest twisted in a new way, almost painfully hopeful. Jaskier knew he was probably wrong. He knew those were signs of friendship and he shouldn't expect anything more. But try as he might, he couldn’t stamp out the little flutter of hope in his chest. He could feel his face heating up a bit at the thought. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt called suddenly, several feet ahead of him. Jaskier looked up and was met with a look of annoyance. At least, that’s what everyone else would see. Jaskier saw the concern underneath, though. It was a look that only Jaskier would be able to properly name. Only Jaskier. Because Geralt had allowed only Jaskier close enough to be able to learn the special language Geralt unknowingly used.

Did Geralt feel Jaskier's eyes on him, despite Jaskier daydreaming? Or was he checking to make sure Jaskier wasn't hurt or getting too far behind? 

The smart answer would be the first. Witcher senses and all of that. The answer Jaskier went with was the second, and his heart soared and his face broke into a grin as he put his lute away and jogged to catch up. He tossed a snarky remark to Geralt, and it was returned with a slight hum and amused eyes.

Now Jaskier was on a mission. He needed to know, once and for all, whether or not Geralt truly loved him. It was entirely possible that Geralt only saw Jaskier as a friend, but it was equally possible he was just too bad at handling emotions to confess his true feelings. One way or another, Jaskier would find out.

***

They made camp that evening, right as the sun began to set. Jaskier started a fire and set up their bedrolls as Geralt got Roach settled for the night. It was their usual routine and happened without many words. It was easy and quick, and before soon, Geralt was off to hunt some rabbits for dinner. 

That gave Jaskier time to plot.

As soon as he was sure he was out of range of Witcher senses, Jaskier pulled out his writing supplies and began muttering to himself. If he was going to confess to Geralt, it had to be perfect. 

_ Flowers,  _ Jaskier scribbled. Geralt liked flowers, whether he was loath to admit it or not. The same went for sweets. That got scribbled down too.  _ Roach, swords,  _ and  _ nice smelling baths  _ all made the list as well. Jaskier hummed as he continued to write. It got easier and easier, and soon, he had almost an entire page of things Geralt enjoyed. 

As for the actual confession, Jaskier was having a bit harder of a time planning it out. Would Geralt appreciate it if his confession was accompanied by a gift? Perhaps at the next town, Jaskier could set up a candlelit dinner in their room while Geralt took on a contract. 

A dinner with plenty of sweets. 

Jaskier was writing down ideas when Geralt returned, somehow carrying an entire deer. He glanced up and muttered a quick greeting before looking back to his notebook, lost in thought. It only took a second for the sight before him to register, however, and he was quick to do a double-take.

He must have been staring, mouth agape, because Geralt looked over and stared back. 

"I thought you were going to get rabbits," Jaskier said. "I didn't expect quite this much...effort." 

Geralt got that look on his face that he often got when he was struggling with his words. A few moments passed before he was able to come up with something.

"You complained," he offered lamely. 

"I what?"

Geralt made the face again and gave a vague hand wave.

"Yesterday, you complained about the rabbits," he said. He looked at Roach as if silently asking her how to continue, then looked back towards Jaskier. "I thought you would appreciate something other than rabbits. And I sensed this. So I tracked it down." 

Jaskier suddenly remembered the conversation Geralt was talking about. Yesterday evening, the witcher returned to the campsite with rabbits as usual, and Jaskier had indeed complained about how often they ate the cute animals. He was only being dramatic for the sake of being dramatic, but apparently Geralt had taken it to heart.

Geralt looked embarrassed, in his almost imperceptible Geralt way, and Jaskier's heart swelled in his chest. 

"Thank you," Jaskier said. "I can't believe you remembered that." 

Geralt turned to begin the process of skinning the deer, but Jaskier was positive Geralt was still embarrassed.

"Thought you'd appreciate it," Geralt muttered. 

Jaskier crawled over to where Geralt was working and put his hand on the witcher's shoulder. Geralt met his eyes with a confused look.

"I mean it," Jaskier said softly. "You listened to what I said in a passing conversation and you put in extra effort to do something I'd enjoy for no real reason. I really appreciate it, Geralt. Thank you.”

Geralt looked caught off guard and a little apprehensive.

“Hm,” he said, and turned back to his task at hand.

Jaskier crawled back to his spot and continued to write, all while sneaking glances at Geralt. The witcher was still embarrassed. Jaskier could tell, somehow. Geralt always got like that when extended kindness. It was like he didn’t know how to handle it. He always felt like a fish out of water in situations like that.

Suddenly, Jaskier tore a page out of his notebook and tossed it into the fire. He couldn’t plan a confession. A situation like this, with so many emotions riding on it, had to be left to Geralt. He had to be the one to decide when it would happen and where and how. Geralt had to be in full control of the situation, otherwise he would feel uncomfortable, regardless of whether or not he actually loved Jaskier.

_ Shit. _

Jaskier couldn’t confess to Geralt. He had to wait for the witcher to make the first move.


	2. Tarts Above Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's plan is set into motion. Or, it would be, if not for the damn routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the responses so far!! I love reading your comments c: 
> 
> I'm planning on updating every two days, so you can expect the next update on the 14th! Each chapter is approximately 2000 words. 
> 
> Stay safe! <3

One thing about Jaskier that Geralt often pointed out was how impatient he could be. The comments were always met with indignance and complaints, Jaskier arguing about it until something else stole his attention away long enough for him to forget it had even happened.

And, well. If Jaskier was beginning to see what Geralt had meant all those times, he certainly wasn’t going to tell. But it was hard, wanting something so badly and knowing it was just out of reach. He had resolved to let Geralt be the one to make the first move, but it had already been an _ entire morning _ since he made that decision, and Geralt still hadn’t done so. Jaskier decided that there were only two possible reasons for this. The first contender was that Geralt didn’t actually love him back. Jaskier pushed that thought away in favor of the more enjoyable one, which was that Geralt was simply waiting for the right time to do so. Jaskier was a romantic, and he understood that desire more than anyone. It was a shame his desire to finally kiss Geralt was a little stronger. 

He still wasn’t going to be the first one to make a move, though. That was still up to Geralt. Jaskier would never take that sort of control away from Geralt when he needed it. That being said, Jaskier was a romantic and a poet, so if he were to help speed things along a little, well. Geralt would still have control. Jaskier was just going to give him a little nudge. If Geralt was waiting for the right moment, Jaskier would just have to provide it for him. 

He had his plan by the time they reached the town. 

It was just past noon, and as usual, Geralt’s first stop was the inn’s stables to get Roach situated. Jaskier went inside. The crowd was decently large and seemed to be in high enough spirits to enjoy a few songs. They were a little louder than Geralt would enjoy, but not loud enough to constitute eating in their room to avoid his witcher senses becoming overwhelmed. Jaskier noted the way they bought ale after ale and decided this could be a lucrative night. 

Charming the innkeeper’s wife wasn’t difficult, and by the end of their conversation, she promised him a free meal for him and his traveling companion for each night of performance.

She was mid hair-twirl when the door opened and Jaskier’s attention was immediately elsewhere, looking for Geralt. 

The wife scoffed, and Jaskier’s head shot back in her direction. “What’s a witcher doing here?” She muttered angrily. Jaskier scowled at her and turned to look for Geralt once more. It wasn’t difficult to find him. Geralt always stood out in settings like these. Evidently, it hadn’t taken Geralt long to find Jaskier either, as he was already making his way towards the pair. Jaskier looked back at the wife, who had gone a little pale. She was probably worried that Geralt heard her and wasn’t happy about it.

_ Serves her right,  _ Jaskier thought. 

Geralt almost wedged himself between Jaskier and the wife, ignoring her completely. Jaskier couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not.

“Did you get us a room?” Geralt asked.

“Well, hello again to you too,” Jaskier said sarcastically. “And if you must know, I was just discussing rooms with the lovely lady here. She said she would be absolutely delighted to give us a room.”

Jaskier turned towards the woman, who looked absolutely gobsmacked. Evidently, she hadn’t been expecting the humble bard to be traveling with a witcher.

“Isn’t that right, ma’am?” Jaskier prompted.

The woman ignored Jaskier completely, staring at Geralt. Her stare was returned with a blank one. Jaskier was honestly beginning to feel a bit offended at how quickly her attention, which he had completely undivided before Geralt had waltzed in, was on someone new so quickly.

“A bard traveling with a witcher?” She asked. Jaskier could see the cogs in her mind turn as she connected the dots, her eyes flitting between Jaskier and Geralt as if she were making a physical connection between them. “You’re the White Wolf of Rivia, aren’t you?” She asked.

Geralt grunted. In Geraltian, which is what Jaskier had taken to calling his grunts and minute expressions, it meant “I want to be elsewhere right now.” Evidently, the woman was not fluent in the language, and her eyes went even wider. Jaskier wondered if they could pop out of her head. That was some fine imagery to write down for later use, if only he had his writing supplies on him.

“Hold on just a moment!” She said excitedly. Suddenly, she turned and left into the room behind the bar, presumably to fetch something. 

Jaskier pursed his lips.

“It was going fine until you got here,” he said.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice even and low, “Were you going to fuck the innkeeper’s wife? And get us kicked out of the inn?”

Jaskier feigned surprise. “Well, I’ve never! As if I would! What kind of a scoundrel do you think I am, Geralt?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

The door behind the bar opened, and the woman emerged, pulling a man by the arm.

“He can help us, if you just explain what’s going on, I know he can!” She babbled. “That’s Geralt of Rivia, the best witcher of them all! If anyone can, it’s him!” The man, who Jaskier presumed to be her husband, just looked very tired. Whether he needed some sleep or a break from his wife was hard to tell. Jaskier thought it was both.

The man was indeed her husband, and he explained that they had a case of disappearances recently. Despite how big of a deal the woman was making it out to be, Geralt was able to piece together that it was a simple case of drowners. Jaskier tuned out after this. Drowners were a common problem and an easy fix for the witcher, and he trusted him to work out a deal on his own. Drowners were perfect. Geralt would surely need a bath tonight, and that worked out perfectly for his plan. Operation Confession was off to a great start already. 

There was seldom a more romantic experience to be had than someone washing your hair for you after a disgusting battle, after all. 

Geralt went off to the market to replenish their supplies. Jaskier followed along, partly to make sure Geralt got the bread he liked (although he always did) and partly because he needed a few supplies of his own if this night was to be as successful as he hoped. 

While Geralt was at the apothecary, a place Jaskier seldom joined him to, Jaskier bounced from place to place to gather supplies. Soaps and oils and candles and sweets, all things that Geralt secretly enjoyed. The fragrances were mild, to avoid overwhelming his witcher senses, but still fresh smelling. The sweets were made with strawberry. Geralt would never admit to it, but strawberries were always the fruit that caught his eyes at the markets. Jaskier quickly made his way back to the inn alone and stashed his new buys with his own things, hoping Geralt wouldn’t find them in the meantime. 

The Witcher returned soon after, and they ate lunch downstairs before the contract needed to be completed. 

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

“Hm.”

Geraltian translation: “As long as it takes.”

Jaskier wasn’t pleased. He needed an estimate so he could know when to begin preparations. 

“Surely you know you’ll need a bath after the fight, Geralt,” Jaskier tried. “Tell me how long it’ll take so I can have a bath drawn and ready upon your arrival.”

Geralt sighed, as if Jaskier was asking too much of him, but the prospect of a bath was something he would never turn down, and Jaskier knew that all too well.

“I’ll be back in two hours after I leave,” he said. Then, a moment of hesitation. “You’re not coming with me?”

Jaskier froze for just a moment. “You wouldn’t let me come even if I wanted to, and drowners are common enough anyway. I’ll stay here and play my music, earn our night in this inn.”

Geralt gave him a raised eyebrow, but didn’t question further. Jaskier really should have considered the suspicion of not asking to come along for the fight. 

“This outfit was  _ expensive, _ Geralt. Drowners are so…” Jaskier waved his hand, trying to accentuate his point. “They’re so  _ messy. _ ”

He was rewarded with a small huff of laughter. 

After lunch, Geralt headed out, and Jaskier immediately sprang into action. He couldn’t set up the bath yet, lest it get too cold before Geralt returned, but he set up the candles in their positions and the strawberry tarts on the table in their room. He put the soaps and oils on the floor in the general vicinity of where the tub would be.

With as much setting up done as he could manage, Jaskier kept his word and played. He thought it would be difficult to focus on his music with thoughts of Geralt going through his mind, but his instinct took over. He found himself being pulled into the thrall of performing. His feelings were soaring high, drunk on the joy of being the center of attention, and could see the pile of coin growing by the minute. The audience clapping and laughing reminded Jaskier of exactly  _ why _ he had become a bard in the first place.

Throughout his performance, he kept an eye on the clock. Once it got close to the predicted time of Geralt’s return, Jaskier called for a bath in their room and kept playing. And played some more. Eventually, he had all but ran through his entire repertoire of songs. He was sure he could replay the list from the beginning. The people listening were surely too drunk to notice. But Geralt was  _ late.  _ Geralt was almost never late, unless something happened. 

Without a horse or a notion of where Geralt had gone, Jaskier had no way of looking for him. 

He ignored the painful twists in his gut and played his first song again.

He was on the last line of his sixth song of his list again when the door opened and Geralt trudged in sluggishly. Jaskier played the final note with a flourish, bowing and grinning at his audience. 

“Thank you all for being such a lovely audience, but it appears I’m needed elsewhere at this moment!”

The audience booed, but Jaskier was more occupied on collecting his coin so he could assist his witcher.

“I’ll be back in this very same spot tomorrow evening, so come see me then!” Jaskier said loudly.

The audience cheered. Jaskier rolled his eyes. Drunk people were so easy to please.

He made it to their room and Geralt was already in the bath. Jaskier didn’t have to touch the water to know it was no longer hot.

“I can pay for a new bath,” he tried. Geralt shook his head, and instead yawned as he sunk lower into the water.

“Not just a few,” Geralt muttered.

“Ah,” Jaskier said, “So that’s why you were so late.”

“Significantly more than I anticipated. More payment is due.”

“Are you going to request it?”

Geralt considered it for a moment and shook his head. “I think being married to that woman is payment enough, to be honest.”

Jaskier was startled into a laugh. Geralt smiled wryly. 

The rest of their night continued the way it always did. Jokes and witticisms, grunts and nods, almost their own language. Geralt’s hair got cleaned, his injuries patched up. The fondness never left Jaskier’s heart. 

Evidently though, his plan had left his head, as he didn’t remember it until Geralt began blowing out candles before bed.

_ Fuck.  _ Their routine had sucked him in too easily, and he had gotten too distracted by Geralt to think about  _ wooing  _ Geralt.

Geralt didn’t question the candles, nor did he question the soaps and oils. He technically didn’t question the tarts on the table either, but Jaskier could see the way he was eyeing them, like a child who wanted something but was too shy to ask. 

“Those are for you, you know,” Jaskier said casually. Geralt perked up.  _ Actually _ perked up, like a real wolf when it hears something suddenly. Jaskier stifled a laugh and tried to keep his voice even. 

“They’re strawberry.”

Geralt looked like he was hesitating. Jaskier prodded him with his foot. “Go on and take them, before they get gross. They probably won’t taste as good in the morning.”

“Why?”

Jaskier hummed. “I never thought about it why it happens, but they do get hard and difficult, and somehow the crumbs are even worse, and the strawberries just — “

“No,” Geralt cut him off. “I mean … why did you buy me … tarts?”

“Because I knew you’d like them,” Jaskier said. He smiled at Geralt, who was looking quite like he did when Jaskier thanked him for the deer. 

“Oh,” said Geralt, sounding a bit strangled.

“You deserve to have yummy desserts sometimes,” Jaskier said. “Go eat them.”

Geralt still hesitated.

“They’re  _ strawberry, _ ” Jaskier repeated.

The tarts were gone by morning, as were Jaskier’s hopes of getting Geralt to confess that night. It didn’t feel quite like a loss, somehow. Maybe it was seeing that look on Geralt’s face again, or seeing how happy Geralt looked just because of two inexpensive strawberry tarts.

Jaskier decided to use his earnings to buy more tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! You can leave a comment and a kudos, and you can find me @CasuallyScreaming on Tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a kudos and comment, and let me know what you thought!
> 
> Have a great day and be safe!
> 
> <3


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